Fingertips
by The Ashcroft Moon
Summary: What goes on the roof stays on the roof. Howard never lets me finish my sentences. Once, just once, I really wish he would.


**Hi there, what you doing in my waters? This is only my second Boosh fic, so I'm still pretty new to this. Getting there, though!  
It's a tiny bit angsty, but probably the closest thing to fluff I've ever written! I'm not sure it turned out how I expected so any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading and enjoy. **

**I do not own these characters. Lyrics are from Black Fang by Cherry Ghost.**

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_Be my midnight swimmer,  
I will be your sea-salt lips  
Be my cold blood killer and  
I will be your fingertips._

When it comes to expressing myself, my feelings I mean, I'm not exactly the best. I'm not good at saying what I feel, I can't use big words and I don't have a pencil case story. If I feel strongly about something the words find themselves, whether they sound right or not. They just come pouring out of my mouth so fast it's near impossible to stop them, so fast there's no way I could pull them back in. There isn't a person on earth that can stop me once I get going.

Howard. Howard is the exception. Howard never lets me finish my sentences. Whenever he interrupts me I swear I can hear my heart thrashing against my ribs wildly and all the words I have stored away disappear for some reason. It's like, when I'm with Howard, it's really hard to talk about anything…awkward. If he doesn't want to listen, he cuts me off.

When I'm rambling about my hair or about clothes or stupid things, such stupid things he just listens, humours me. I talk and talk and he answers, no matter what we're doing. He'd just say 'yeah', 'mmm', 'right' and that's enough for me. It's enough because I know he's there, listening and maybe even caring a little bit. It used to be like that all the time, back when we had a system. I'd tell him about things and he'd pretend to be interested, nod and agree some of the time, tell me I was wrong other times but it never mattered, not really. That was what we did, and I'd do the same for him now and then, if I remembered. It was better then, like when we were at the zoo.

Then things started to go wrong. Somewhere down the line he stopped listening, just tuned me out. I'd find myself talking to him, lying on my bed with a magazine but when I look over at him he'd just be staring at nothing, sat on his bed like he was trying to ignore me. It was like he didn't want to talk to me, like he _couldn't_. Howard never lets me finish my sentences, not since-

Not since that night.

He was already dressed when I came out of the bedroom, silk dressing gown covering me in a lazy fashion. I'd just thrown it on, had a quick look at my hair in the mirror and walked out. I didn't even hear him get up. I am quite a heavy sleeper, though, and Howard does get up well too early. He was wearing his hat and one of those ugly shirts I hate but for once I didn't say anything on the matter.

He rested against the counter and stirred his cup of tea vigorously, so much so that the clattering of the spoon against the mug rang in my ears. I wasn't sure he'd noticed me because his eyes were fixated on the drink. "Bloody hell, Howard. I think you've stirred that enough, you berk." I told him, taking a few steps further into the room, breaking a smile. Then I realised maybe I shouldn't have said that.

He looked up, as if startled and at last acknowledged me. "Huh? Oh…" It took him a minute to work out what I'd said before he dropped the spoon into the sink and crossed the room to sit on the sofa, leaving me standing there. The room was a mess, all remnants of last night's party scattered across every inch. "We got any resolve?" I asked stupidly, groaning a little. "I am _well_ rough." Maybe I deserved to be rough, considering.

He made a disapproving sound, not bothering to look over to me or answer properly. I stood facing him for a minute or so; contemplating what to do, thinking of the right words, trying not to sound like a complete idiot. That was going to be pretty hard seen as everything I say makes me sound like a complete idiot. I thought he might like it if I sounded stupid; maybe it would make him feel better. I couldn't take him ignoring me anymore. I wanted him to listen again; I wanted him to at least pretend he cared. It's all because he doesn't understand. Sometimes I wish I could just blurt it out, just yell at him until he got it because that would be so much easier than all this.

I thought of a million things to say that might break the tension, a million things other than what happened _last night_. It didn't even matter that I tried to hold them back because the words still managed to find my lips and pour out of me. "Howard…" I began, my voice cracking in the air. I took a breath and moved the persistent fringe out of my line of vision. "About what happened on the roof…"

"Do you fancy a brew?" He interrupted me quickly, so immediately I hardly registered it at all. "That's meant to be good for hangovers isn't it?" Howard's voice was jumpy, cracking and…scared. Was that fear? Howard gets scared all the time though, so I wasn't sure.

He stood and passed me in the kitchen, not looking to me, avoiding my eyes. His shaking hand flipped the kettle on and I swear I could hear unsteady breaths escaping from his chest. "You've just made one." I mentioned, the confusion clear in my voice. It took a lot for me not to call him a berk again. He looked so unsure it was almost frightening. This is what he always did.

He set out two cups on the counter and waited frantically for the kettle to boil. "That one didn't taste right, too many sugars." He reasoned, his fingers quickly tapping against the surface. I didn't even bother mentioning he hadn't taken a sip of the one he made a second ago and moved closer, wanting to reach out to him, to touch him and tell him to stop fretting. I wanted to tell him that it was okay to be a bit scared about what happened because I was scared too, I really was. He didn't understand that doing that, what I did last night on the roof, was really hard for me. I wanted to tell him everything, all of it. I wanted to, but couldn't. Instead I croaked another answer. "But you don't have sugar in your tea, Howard."

His reply was instant. "Maybe that's why it didn't taste right, maybe I should start having sugars, eh? Got to mix things up a bit round here. Howard Moon won't be left behind when the times are changing." He always did that. He'd talk about rubbish to fill the silence, to stop me from saying things he didn't want to hear. Nevertheless, I couldn't understand that look on his face.

He poured water into the two cups, not even realising he hadn't put teabags in either of them. "You wouldn't like that." I said certainly, trying to stop him from going on with himself. I was worried that maybe he'd never let me finish what I wanted to say. I placed my hand on his forearm slowly, as if urging him to stop and I felt the intense burning coming from the contact. I expected him to flinch, move away, or at least mumble his usual 'don't touch me', but he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he carried on talking. "You can't tell me what I'd like and not like, sir. I'm my own man." His words were so fast. "I might not keep up to date with the latest trends but I know what I-."

"Howard, please…" I interrupted.

He turned quickly, shrugging off the touch but bumping into me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard a smash, but I didn't realised he'd let go of the cups until the hot water that was in them began drenching my socks. We both looked down at the mess for what felt like minutes, silent minutes of just staring at the water move across the kitchen floor. I wondered when he'd answer me, so I prompted him again. "Howard?" I was ready for those words to pour out fast but they didn't get chance.

Howard cut me off, loud and hot and filled with that determination that made this so hard. "I don't want to talk about it, alright?" Then our eyes met and I heard that thing in my chest hammering louder than ever.

"Why?" I asked. I stepped closer now, maybe too much. I thought I was close enough to feel his breath but maybe I was imagining it. He just didn't understand. My voice was barely above a whisper. "It was just a kiss." Howard's eyes grew more intense, that sharp brown leaving me breathless. He looked down to the floor and the hammering increased.

"Don't lie." Howard said, and I felt something inside me snap. He turned to leave, probably to get something to clean up the mess but I was sure it was more than that.

"Don't be like that, Howard." I called after him. "Howard!"

"It's okay, Vince." He cut me off again, sighing and I stared at his back with pleading eyes. "What goes on the roof stays on the roof." He told me. I reached out and touched him again, as if silently begging him to let me finish.

"Howard…" I could feel tears stinging my eyes like they were burning and I was sure I'd never been this desperate in my entire life. "I've got things I have to say."

"I don't want to hear them." His answer was cold and he started walking away again, out of my reach. I managed to avoid the broken cups on the floor and go after him, stopping him by the door.

"You always do this!" It came out louder than I expected and he turned to face me. My face was wet now and I felt I couldn't hold it in anymore. "You always run away!" The realisation caused him to flinch a little because he knew I was right. "You never let me finish." I kept shouting, as if it was the only way I'd be able to get through to him. "I'm trying to…" I took a deep breath but that familiar hammering was still there. "I'm trying to tell you that I love you and you're ruining it, Howard!"

It was like it had just poured out, but accidentally this time. I never meant to say it, not really. Maybe it was thing people have in their mind that does stuff without them wanting it to. I can't remember what it's called, but I'm pretty sure it was that.

"What?" Howard asked. His voice was all shaky and weird, not like it was before. He stared at me, right into my eyes for a really long time.

"I meant what I said last night." I confessed, the tears still managing to roll down my face. "I didn't want to tell you like this, okay? You got me angry, you're always getting me angry, Howard!" I sounded like a right idiot. Howard shook his head a little, cracking a smile. "It's not funny!" I told him in all seriousness.

"Come 'ere, you berk." He told me, holding his arms out. I crossed the kitchen and let him embrace me, my head against his chest. I felt like such a fool, shouting it out like that but Howard didn't seem to care. "Howard, I'm sorry-."

"It's alright, little man." He cut me off again, like he always did. "It doesn't matter."

"It does." I persisted, pulling away from him a little so that I could see his face. "Whatever I said on the roof, I really meant it." Now it really was his breath I could feel, smothering my skin, hot and dry.

"Vince…" He looked down at me then, his brown eyes all glazed over. "So did I."

Our lips met somehow, all slow and nervous but it was like it all happened so quickly. His hands were on my face, his cold fingertips barely touching the skin but I could feel them, a subtle reminder that I was actually awake, stood in the kitchen and doing…what we were doing. This was so much like last night, but at the same time, it was so different.

I pulled apart slightly to catch my breath and our foreheads pressed lightly against each other. "Howard…" I whispered, his hot breath still on my face. "Howard, I-."

"I know." He cut me off, breathing hard. He finally understood. Howard had interrupted me again, but for once I didn't care.


End file.
